


Gonna Be My Biggest Fan

by patdkitten



Series: The Broken Watch Series [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adult Louis, Bottom Louis, M/M, Top Louis, Young Louis, adult louis wrecking young louis, oh god what the hell did i write, time travel as a plot device
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:16:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patdkitten/pseuds/patdkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis just wants to find a birthday present for Harry. He finds himself in a strange little shop, where he buys an overpriced (and broken) watch. When he gets back to his flat, he realizes he's not in his own time anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gonna Be My Biggest Fan

**Author's Note:**

> What in god's name have I written? This started when my friend sent me fanart of adult!Louis seducing young!Louis and went from there. I had a Need, I had people with the same Need, and nothing to satisfy this Need.
> 
> The shopkeeper is an original character from an original series of mine. Her little shop may pop up in another fic in this series. (yes, that's right, I said series) As for the watch (and therefore the shop), I need a plot device for time travel, and a watch came to mind. All the more excuse to write adult!boys ruining younger versions of themselves. There's at least one more thing in her shop that could also contribute to other wrecking...
> 
> Title comes from Bubblegum Bitch by Marina and the Diamonds, which was listened to a lot while writing this.

Harry's birthday is less than a week away, he's... bloody hell if Louis knows where he is in the world anymore, and Louis can't find his boyfriend a present. To be fair, it's not really that big of a deal; the last time the two of them spoke – just before Louis' birthday – Harry'd said that he didn't want anything for his birthday.

“After all,” Harry had chuckled. “We're going on another worldwide tour. We can just get each other silly little things on tour.”

Louis'd laughed, nodded and agreed.

But that was over a month ago, and Louis had at some point decided that 'not getting his boyfriend something' was not going to cut it with him. Besides, Eleanor had threatened to have Louis' head if he didn't get Harry something. And what Eleanor wants, well. Louis treats Eleanor pretty damn well, if he says so himself. If she wants something, she bloody well gets it.

The thing is, though, Louis has been wandering what feels like half of London looking for a decent present and nothing's popping out at him. He's been to all of Harry's favourite shops. He's been to all of _his_ favourite shops. Hell, for shits and giggles, he hit a few of El's favourite shops. The only things that have surfaced are a few pairs of knickers and some sugary sweet body splash for El.

He's just decided that he wouldn't know the perfect gift for Harry bloody Styles if it danced a burlesque strip tease in front of him in the lacy knickers that are sitting in the small lingerie bag he's carrying, when a small shop seems to materialize in his path. Well, not directly in his path; he actually walks past it and out of the corner of his eye, catches sight of his irritated reflection in a distorted mirror sitting in the window.

He stops abruptly, causing the woman behind him to bump into him. She curses at him as she pushes past, eyes narrowing briefly as if she recognizes him, but then she continues on like she's in a hurry.

He doesn't care, though. He studies his reflection in the mirror sitting in the window. For a brief moment, he's sure his reflection winks back at him with a grin, but that would actually be crazy. He shakes his head, pushing the door open. After all, it couldn't hurt to look, right?

Inside the shop is tiny. Louis couldn't have judged that from outside, but once he's inside, he can see that nearly every inch of floor space is full of things. He also realizes that this isn't a place he'd normally spend a lot of time in.

He gets sidetracked for a few minutes by the bookcase near the door. For the most part, it's filled with old, leather-bound books that he can't read the titles of because they're either missing completely or in a language he's pretty sure he's never seen on any of One Direction's world tours. There are also various knickknacks on the shelves. One in particular is a small curled up cat, carved out of some green stone he doesn't know the name of but it's nearly the exact same shade as Harry's eyes, so he picks it up and weighs it in his hand.

“Do you have a cat?”

The feminine voice startles Louis completely and he puts the little cat down before he drops it, turning toward the sound. The speaker is a young woman with multi-colored hair tied up in a wild bun and held back with chopsticks. A set of brown headphones encircles her neck, and he can hear a tinny version of what sounds like One Direction, though he doesn't remember recording that song. He does, though, remember penning the lyrics he thinks he's hearing just the other night. It's about as weird as the books near him, with their titles in a strange language.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said, do you have a cat?” She points a finger tipped with a bright pink nail at the cat he just put down. “Or do you just like the color green?”

“Just liked it.” Louis shrugs, feeling almost defensive without knowing why. “It's a pretty shade of green, that's all.”

“It is, isn't it?” The young woman beams wide, leaning forward and propping her chin in her hands. “Are you looking for anything in particular? For any _one_ in particular?”

For a moment, Louis considers just brushing her off and saying he's only looking, but he figures what the hell. Besides, she looks like the type of girl that probably writes fanfiction about him and Harry anyway. Normally, he hates fueling that fire because it's his fucking personal life, and it's none of the fans' business to know who he's with behind closed doors, but he also doesn't see anyone else in the shop. And he can still hear the song he hasn't even recorded coming from her headphones.

“My boyfriend. His birthday's in a week and I've got nothing.” He waves the hand holding the small lingerie bag absently.

The young woman's eyes follow the movement of the bag, smiling faintly like she's got a valuable secret before she turns and reaches into the mess of shelves behind the counter. Her hand reappears from the mess with its prize: a thin box Louis would bet on that holds a string of pearls or something equally feminine.

“He's not that kind of guy,” Louis says, moving closer out of curiosity as she sets the box on the counter. “Although I did say boyfriend.”

The shopgirl props her chin in her hand again, grinning broadly as she turns the box toward him, opening it as she does so. Inside the box isn't a string of pearls like he'd thought; it's a battered silver pocket watch attached to a chain. It's clearly seen better days, but the girl is watching it like it's something incredibly valuable.

She doesn't move from her position as Louis crosses to the counter, taking the watch from the case.

“I could just walk out of here with it, you know,” Louis says, a bit sarcastically. Up close, the girl's eyes are a delicate blue, but he can see a hint of gold around the rims of her irises.

“You could,” the shopgirl agrees, perfectly amiable. The music through her headphones switches to a new song, and it's another one he doesn't recognize. “But then, I know who you are.”

“Everyone knows who I am. I'm bloody famous.” Louis rolls his eyes, turning the pocket watch over in his hand. It doesn't take someone like Sherlock Holmes to figure out the watch isn't worth whatever the girl is going to ask for it. It's clearly seen better days; both the front and back of the watch are battered, and there's a tiny hairline chip on the watch face. Hell, when he checks the time, the bloody thing isn't even ticking.

But... It does look like an antique, and definitely like something Harry would like. He sighs despite himself, putting it back in the case. “How much?”

Sure enough, the girl names a price that he doesn't think the watch is worth and she grins when he rolls his eyes at her asking price.

“It's not worth that, and you and I both know it,” Louis points out, nudging the box toward her. “Thing doesn't even work.”

“It's a special watch.” The girl grins, shutting the box and pushing it back towards him like this is a game to her. He hears a swish from behind her that tells him a cat must've crossed behind her, but nothing materializes around the counter so he dismisses that as just another weird thing about the shop. “It does more than tell time.”

“You're only saying that to justify the outrageous price you just put on it.” Louis grumbles even as he finds himself pulling out his wallet and paying her stupid price.

“Perhaps.” The girl grins again as she puts the box in a bag and hands it over. “But it's yours now. I'm sure you'll figure everything out.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Louis takes the bag, turning to go. He glances at the bookshelf as he leaves the shop, but the little cat is no longer sitting there. Too bad; it really did match Harry's eyes so well....

As he walks back to his flat, Louis takes the box out of the bag and pulls the watch back out. The funny thing is, it might've been an outrageous price to pay for a broken watch, but the shopgirl could've charged him even more, just because of who he was.

He stops for a minute, putting the bag carrying Eleanor's gifts into the other bag, and takes a moment to wind the watch. After a few turns, the second hand starts ticking away cheerfully. Louis's not sure how long it'll last, so he makes a mental note to take it into a jeweller's to fix before he gives it to Harry. Maybe they can also buff the silver, make it look better than it does now.

He puts the pocket watch back into its box before he starts walking again, humming cheerfully as he takes the lift up to his flat. When he gets out, he notices a plant at the far end of the hall that he hasn't seen in a few years. But maybe that's just because he doesn't notice much outside his flat, and things all seem a bit weird after that strange shop he got the watch in.

He shakes his head, digging his keys out and unlocking the door to his flat. As if to reiterate the fact that things are going a bit strange, he finds himself confronted with the furniture arrangement Harry had done shortly after Louis had first moved into the flat. It's entirely different from the way he left the apartment earlier, and he wonders if Harry's back from wherever he is and if this is his way of screwing with Louis' head.

He takes a step inside, depositing his keys in the bowl specifically meant for them, and tries to process the thought of someone else having been in his flat.

“That you, Haz?” He hears a voice coming from the bedroom, and he freezes because that voice sounds so very _familiar_. He thinks he should say something, but he doesn't have time to decide what before the other person laughs, coming down the hallway as he talks. “It's not funny to lurk in doorways, Haz. In fact, it's very...” The person stops at the end of the hallway, staring at Louis. It's _him_. “Rude.”

No, saying that it's Louis isn't entirely accurate. The person standing at the end of the hallway isn't Louis as he woke up as this morning; this Louis is the one that he was a few years ago, before the multiple albums, before the tattoos, before, well. Everything.

The younger Louis blinks, reaching up to flatten the artfully styled fringe Louis's being trying to run away from. Louis also knows that the striped shirt, suspenders and red trousers the younger version of himself are wearing are stuffed so far in his closet, fauns in Narnia are wearing them. “Can I help you?”

“You're me,” Louis says, knowing it sounds dumb even as it comes out of his mouth. The younger him frowns, eyes crinkling at the corners just the way he always thought they did, and he takes a step forward despite himself.

“I beg your pardon.” The younger Louis eyes him warily as he comes closer.

Louis wraps his hand around his younger self's wrist, feeling the delicate bones beneath the skin as he pulls him forward. He wonders briefly if Harry feels that beneath his fingers when he wraps his fingers around Louis' wrist, but he's quickly distracted by the fire in his younger self's eyes.

“Do you _mind_ ,” young Louis says, pulling his hand back with a glare. “I don't know who you are, but you seem to think you're me and that's crazy. Because _I'm_ me.”

“I'm the older you.” Louis holds his hands up at the glare still directed at him, grinning wide as he walks around the younger version of him. He can't help spanking his pert arse when he passes behind his younger self. To be fair, he's spanked himself plenty of times; but it's one thing to do it to yourself and entirely another to do it to someone who looks exactly like you and see what it looks like to someone else.

“Do you mind!” the younger Louis repeats, but it's less of a protest this time. Louis'd forgotten that when he was younger, he liked to be spanked. When he completes his full circle, he can see the blush colouring his younger self's cheeks.

He lightly touches the blush, grinning. “Start tanning. It'll get harder to see that.”

“If you're the older me, I'm sure you already have that covered,” younger Louis gripes, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly starting to warm to the idea that Louis is, in fact, him. “Do I really get that scruffy? And in need of a haircut?”

Louis scratches his jaw with a wider grin. “You forget to shave one day, and then it drives Harry wild that night. Between him and Eleanor, they start a bloody petition to get you to keep it, although some of the fans hate it.”

His younger self looks skeptical, reaching up to touch his own hair as if to reassure himself it's artfully coiffed and not shaggy. “And the hair? You look _homeless_.”

“Lou. Trust me.” Louis grins. “She gets excited over the things she can do with it. You work some pretty wild hairstyles.” There's still a skeptical expression on his younger self's face, so he adds, “Besides, more to hold on to.” He pokes young Louis' button nose with a smirk. “Trust me. You might think the sex is pretty wild now, but wait until you've got a boyfriend _and_ a girlfriend.”

“I doubt it.” His younger self shakes his head. “But I guess I'll find out, yeah?”

Louis's about to agree and find his way out of this weird moment with his younger self before the desite to prove all the things he's just said pops into his head. He's not even sure where the thought has come from, but now it's in his head, and he's perfectly willing to go with it.

“Actually...” He begins, stepping in.

“Actually?” His younger self echoes, eyes widening and mouth opening as he gets closer. He ducks his head – he hadn't realized he'd gained an inch or so between the him he was and the him he is now – and kisses himself. The open mouth is an open invitation and he fully explores his younger self's mouth. He tastes incredibly sweet, almost like he regularly eats sugary candy, and Louis wonders if this is what Eleanor and Harry both taste when he's kissing them. It must be; both can never seem to stop kissing him.

He pulls away after a few moments, taking in the flushed face of his younger self, before beginning to back him toward the bedroom.

“Where are we-” his younger self begins, but Louis doesn't let him continue, leaning in for another long and breathless kiss. Each kiss seems to take on a darker sweet taste, and he doesn't think he really wants to stop.

At some point, they get to the bedroom and that, at least, has never changed. Louis is able to steer the younger version of himself to the plush bed, pushing him back on it. Young Louis clearly isn't expecting it and sprawls out spreadeagled, biting down on his lip.

“I am going to fucking _wreck_ you,” Louis announces, taking a step back to admire how his younger self sprawls back on the bed. He knows for a fact that Harry loves it when he sprawls out on the mattress, leaving everything open and on display. He doesn't think the younger Louis has quite gotten that memo from Harry yet, which makes the picture that much prettier. Especially with the blush returning on his younger self's cheeks.

“Isn't that incest, technically?” the younger Louis asks, toying with the hem of his shirt. He looks a lot like he wants to take it off, but torn about it at the same time. Louis remembers quite a few buttons getting ripped off shirts when he was younger, by a rather impatient Harry.

“You're me.” Louis shrugs as he pulls his own shirt off. He knows exactly where in his past this younger Louis is when his younger self inhales sharply at the sight of the tattoos.

“You get _tattooed_? Jesus Christ.” The younger Louis props himself up, trying to look scolding, but he can't hide the way his blue eyes are roving across the 'it is what it is' tattoo and down his arm.

The older Louis shrugs, grinning. “You should see the future Harry and Zayn. Fucking _canvases_.” He pushes his younger self further up on the bed before straddling him. “I think it's an addiction for Harry for a while.”

His younger self brings up a hand to the stag tattoo, idly tracing the antlers. “Jesus. Do they mean anything, or do I just become a bloody idiot?”

“They do. Do you really want to talk about our mutual tattoos?” Louis raises an eyebrow, hooking his fingers under his younger self's shirt and tugging it off. He ghosts his hand down the thinner chest and stomach, slapping his belly lightly. “You also build up a bit.”

Louis'd forgotten his blush spread down his neck. He is _definitely_ glad his tan covers up the blush. “I can see that.”

Louis grins, ducking his head to bite down on a nipple. “Keep up with the attitude. Just makes me want to wreck you more; show you everything that Harry and Eleanor love.”

“I'm not.” His younger self doesn't _quite_ succeed at biting back a groan. “I'm not dating El.”

“Not yet, you're not.” Louis shifts, working his younger self's trousers off. “By the way, you also get into wearing a lot of sweats. Heads up.”

“Oh god.” The younger Louis flops backwards, hips rolling up in all the right places. At least he's figured that part out, good lad. “I turn into a homeless person. I _knew_ it.”

“Nope, not a homeless person.” Louis kisses his younger self's lower stomach with a grin before nipping at his inner thigh. “Now, about the scruff...”

He catches his younger self's gaze as he quickly swallows him down. Another thing he's forgotten: he used to be incredibly quick to come. Either that, or he's forgotten how sensitive he used to be, because it's barely a couple minutes later before his younger self's coming with a loud groan.

He can't help the chuckle as he props himself up. “Really?”

“ _Jesus_. You weren't kidding about the scruff.” Young Louis buries his face in the crook of his arm. The blush is somewhere along his collarbones. God, Louis has not missed that blush at all. “I guess I get better stamina too, huh?”

“You do. But I promised wrecking.” Louis pushes himself up, checking the nightstand drawer out of curiosity. Sure enough, even when he was younger, the lube and condoms were exactly in the same place. “You keep a few things though.” He holds up the lube and condom with a grin.

“ _Homeless_ ,” his younger self reminds him dryly, spreading his legs with what sounds like resignation, but Louis knows it's bordered with a need that he usually feels for Harry. It's actually pretty odd that they both seem to have this need for the other. He remembers that Harry was the only person that Louis was with at one point, and now it's the three of them.

“If you think I look homeless, you should see what Harry looks like in my time,” He points out as he coats his fingers with the lube, taking his time to prep his younger self. Louis might be out to properly ruin him, but he doesn't know when his younger self bottomed last. He definitely remembers a period of time when he was on top for a few months straight.

He does, too, remember the noises he makes when he's ready. In fact, he's pretty sure those noises are among the things that haven't changed, and his younger self is already beginning to make them. He pulls his fingers out, hiding the grin that comes up when his counterpart whines faintly at the loss, before he unwraps the condom and puts it on.

“Roll over.” He pats his younger self's hip, pulling back enough so he can oblige.

As his younger self presents his arse, he glances over his shoulder with a faint grin. “ _Now_ are you going to wreck me?”

Louis can't help but laugh at the sass, grabbing his younger self's hips and lining himself up. “Well, if you _insist_.”

Before his younger self can respond to the bait, he pushes in. He thinks briefly about starting slow and picking up the pace bit by bit, but young Louis did insist... He pounds into his younger self instead, watching with a smirk as the boy digs his fingers into the sheets with desperate little moans and groans. He reaches around, just barely touching his younger self. He might not have had much stamina when he was younger, but he did have a pretty good recovery time. Sure enough, his younger counterpart is already getting hard again.

It doesn't take long before the younger Louis is coming again with another loud cry, and this time, Louis isn't far behind him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” the younger Louis says as Louis pulls out and gets up to rid himself of the condom. “Do I ever stop being exhausted after a shag?”

Louis considers as he comes back to the bed, sitting down. “No. You pretty much fall asleep during pillow talk. If you do it during something important and it's Harry, you'll wake up with sharpie dicks on your face.”

The younger Louis giggles sleepily, eyes already closing. Louis thinks he's asleep, but then the younger Louis opens his eyes again. “If you're me from the future, how're you going to get back to your own time?”

Louis blinks. He hasn't _actually_ considered how he's going to get back, but before he can say that, the younger Louis giggles again, already falling asleep.

“Maybe this is all a dream for us. You and I fall asleep in this bed and we'll just wake up in our own time, and it's just a silly dream.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Louis smiles faintly, thinking that it probably isn't because he doesn't think he's asleep. Then he stops. After all, it couldn't hurt, right? And if he isn't dreaming, he doesn't have any other ideas of how to get back to his own time.

He settles in next to the younger Louis, tucking them both in. Soon enough, he follows his younger self into dreamland.

 

When Louis wakes up the next morning, he's still in his bed, but the sheets are the same they were yesterday morning. He can hear Harry snoring loudly behind him. He thinks about rolling over to snuggle into his boyfriend, ready to tell him about the strange dream he's had, when his eyes light on the nightstand.

Sitting next to the alarm clock is the pocket watch as well as the little green cat from the shop yesterday. The watch is propped open, but the second hand isn't ticking anymore.


End file.
